


There's Only One Bed on Slave I

by hrtiu



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: F/M, THERE WAS ONLY ONE BED, Woops, bobannec, bobannec plague, hurt/comfort surprisingly??, tropes galore, wrote this instead of sleeping
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-29
Updated: 2020-12-29
Packaged: 2021-03-10 21:53:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,731
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28404294
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hrtiu/pseuds/hrtiu
Summary: When Fennec Shand first follows Boba Fett onto his ship to chase after his father's armor, she quickly discovers that Slave I has very limited sleeping options.
Relationships: Boba Fett/Fennec Shand
Comments: 10
Kudos: 102





	There's Only One Bed on Slave I

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to flybynite19 for the idea!

Fennec had worked for a lot of people over the years, so she was used to dealing with her clients’ idiosyncrasies. Still, she’d never worked with someone quite like Boba Fett before.

She’d heard of him, of course. Anybody who was anybody in the hired gun game knew the Fetts. Ok, maybe some of the young hotshots wouldn’t, but they were all dumbasses whose opinion was of no value to Fennec or anyone else. Boba Fett was bounty hunter royalty, and like any proper monarch, he was a little bit mad.

It took about a month for Fennec to recover from Boba’s life-saving “intestinal enhancements,” as he liked to call them, and Fennec knew that as soon as she was operational, they’d be getting to work. Boba was like a snake, waiting still and silent in the burning sand for the perfect opportunity to strike. And that opportunity had finally arrived.

“Where to?” Fennec asked the first morning Boba declared her fully recovered. She got to her feet and snapped the cover over her cybernetic stomach shut, ready to conquer systems and topple dynasties.

“Wherever my father’s armor is,” Boba said, gathering up supplies from around the small hut he called home with the unhurried confidence of a man who expected others to wait for him.

“And that is…?”

Boba looked up at her, his scarred face serious and unyielding. “My contacts have tracked the man who currently possesses my armor to Corvus. We’ll pick up the trail from there.”

“Fair enough,” Fennec said. “How are we getting off-planet?”

A slow smile crept across Boba’s face. “I’ve got that all figured out.”

They packed their few personal effects and extensive weapons collection, then Fennec followed Boba out of the hut and to the tall sand dunes beyond his residence. He held a small remote up towards the monochromatic dune and clicked it with all the solemnity of a monk performing a sacred rite. Fennec watched on, unimpressed, then a rusted, formidable-looking patrol ship rose from the dune, the sand falling off it in tawny curtains. Her eyebrows rose a half an inch—the most dramatic outwards expression of surprise she’d shown in years.

Boba showed her onboard, not bothering to look back or lock up his hut behind him. The quarters were cramped and timeworn but well-maintained. Boba must have brought it out of the sand periodically for regular upkeep over the years.

They stowed their things away, mostly in the armory as a large percentage of their belongings was made to kill people, then Fennec followed Boba to the cockpit and they took off. Fennec looked down over the desert planet as it slowly receded behind them, feeling strangely reborn at the sight of the planet where she’d died becoming small beneath her feet.

Boba set the coordinates and Fennec leaned back in her seat, her eyes glazing over as she stared into the cerulean sea of hyperspace. Her future was uncertain, in some ways more uncertain than it had ever been, but she was at peace. Working a job, fighting someone else’s fights—that’s where she belonged. That was a life she recognized.

“We’re still several hours from Corvus,” Boba said. “You should get some rest. We might run into the man with my armor as soon as we set foot planetside, and Mandalorians aren’t known to give up beskar without a fight.”

“Fine by me,” Fennec said, getting to her feet. “Where should I bunk?”

“The pilot’s quarters are right up that ladder,” Boba said, pointing behind him without looking.

Fennec’s eyes narrowed as she stared at the ladder, mentally going through the quick tour Boba had given her when they’d first embarked.

“Isn’t that your bunk?” she asked, still making her way back to the ladder.

“Only one bunk on the _Slave I_.”

Fennec’s hand stopped on the first rung of the ladder, her lips pursing. “I’ll sleep on the passenger deck.”

Eyes still on the console in front of him, Boba Fett sighed. “We’re both old mercs with bad joints. It’s only a few hours to Corvus. It’s a big bunk.”

Fennec’s fingers closed around the rung and her lips pursed tighter. “Fine.” She’d kill him if he tried anything, life debt or no, and she was pretty sure he understood that.

She climbed up into the pilot’s quarters and crawled across the bed, the low space not allowing for much more movement than that. There were fresh sheets, a sturdy blanket, and two cloud-soft pillows already laid out, and Fennec eagerly made herself comfortable. She wondered vaguely at where Boba could have possibly found such nice bed linens on Tatooine, then fell fast asleep.

* * *

Fennec’s eyes opened on a plain durasteel ceiling less than a foot above her. The lights of the ship had been turned down low and the hum of hyperspace thrummed pleasantly through her body, urging her to close her eyes again and go back to sleep. Conceding defeat, she rolled over onto her side and pulled the blanket tighter around her, fully prepared to once again embrace the oblivion of sleep. Then she saw her bedfellow.

Boba Fett lay flat on his back, eyes closed and hands resting peacefully atop his stomach. The dim light of the cabin cast shadows across his face, the darkness seeping into each crease and crevice of his scars. Fennec reminded herself that she’d known he’d be joining her—that she’d agreed to the arrangement and understood the boundaries. It was still quite the trip to actually witness Boba Fett sharing her bed.

Deciding she wouldn’t get much sleep staring at him, she tried to roll back onto her back, where only the durasteel ceiling would keep her company. The maneuver twinged something in her stomach, and suddenly her gut was burning in pain.

“Agh!”

Boba’s eyes flew open and he surged upwards, banging his head soundly on the low ceiling. “ _Dank farrik!_ What is it?” he swore.

“Nothing! I-” Fennec cut off, gasping in pain. “Something went wrong in my stomach.”

“Let me see.”

Boba rolled over towards her as Fennec opened up the panel in her tunic that covered her exposed wiring, the lancing pain overriding any questions of propriety or embarrassment.

“It looks like it’s the motivator,” Boba said, his face hunched low over her torso as he attempted to do repairs in the tiny bunk space.

Fennec bit hard on the inside of her cheeks, her eyes watering from pain and her hands fisting in the blankets. “Just… get it fixed.”

Boba nodded in agreement and practically buried his face in her abdomen, his sharp eyes darting to and fro as he attempted to locate the source of the malfunction. After far too many minutes of agony, Boba’s surprisingly nimble fingers clicked a wire into place and the pain instantly abated. The tension in Fennec’s muscles took time to unwind, and she slowly went through her body one tendon at a time, releasing the built up pressure.

“You alright?” Boba asked, still hovering awkwardly with his nose just inches from her cybernetic stomach.

“Yeah. Much better.”

He started to pull away but Fennec reached out a hand, her vice-like grip on his wrist halting him.

“I’m not useless, you know,” she said, her jaw taught. “I can still fight. I know it.”

“Do you think I would have brought you if you were useless? Do you think I would have bothered to save you at all?” Boba asked, smooth brows furrowed over his honey-dark eyes.

“I can sleep on the deck without a blanket. I can push through the pain if I malfunction. I’m not faulty.”

Boba’s eyes narrowed on her and his mouth twisted more than the scarring already warped it. “Fennec. We’re both faulty. That’s why I picked you. And that’s why we’re both taking the bunk.”

He started to settle back into the sheets, but Fennec didn’t release her hold. She tugged on his wrist, bringing his face close to hers and staring intently into his eyes. She’d heard that the eyes were the windows of the soul, but Boba’s amber eyes revealed nothing. Her gaze drifted to his scars, following the one stabbing right between his brows, then trailing up the one that reached from the end of one eye and up to the very center of his forehead. His red-white-tan-mottled skin didn’t look quite so discolored in the dim light, and she thought he’d actually fared better than most of their peers from her early days of work. Maybe they both had.

Firmly, but with an air of intrepid experimentation, Fennec reached a hand behind Boba’s neck and pulled him to her, pressing her lips to his in a stiff and unyielding kiss. His mouth was softer than she’d expected, and she felt his lips turn up into a smirk before she pulled away.

That smirk convinced her she’d made a mistake, and she started to retreat, her hand slipping away and her eyes avoiding direct contact with his.

Before she could make her escape, Boba cupped her face in his hands, the patronizing smirk on his face morphing into something gentler.

“Oh, I think we can both do better than that,” he said, his nose brushing hers.

He kissed her slowly—almost lazily—but with a control and tension that promised more. It was just enough to remind Fennec how good a touch could feel—the softness, the heat, the breath. She made the beginnings of a response, her mouth opening under his and her fingers testing gingerly at his chest. Then, by mutual agreement, they separated.

Fennec opened her eyes and this time, the smirk on her face matched his. Understanding passed between them, a recognition of kindred spirits in a galaxy of strangers. She couldn’t say where this was headed, and she knew he couldn’t either, but she felt instinctively that they would be on the same page.

Fennec turned onto her back and stared up at the durasteel ceiling again, her eyes closing and her breath slowing.

“Rest up,” Boba Fett said from beside her. “We should only have an hour left before we land.”

“I’ll be ready for it,” she said, resting her hands across her torso. The smirk on her face turned into a full-blown grin.

She didn’t think Boba Fett was going to be like any of her previous employers.


End file.
